


The Seeker and The Dwarf

by Devisaur



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drunkenness, F/M, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2763113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devisaur/pseuds/Devisaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one-shots involving Varric and Cassandra, generally related to game events. Eventual Varric/Cassandra romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story will be updated periodically, at best. I find their banter to be rather flirty but maybe that's just me. 
> 
> Un-betad, let me know of any errors so they can be fixed.

Cassandra felt oddly content being slumped over in a wooden chair nursing a dark mead. Horrific. The word barely described the mead, it smelled terrible and tasted like congealed milk; the slimy texture took eternity to slide down the back of her throat. She coughed, managing to take one final swig before tossing it to the dusty floor. The bottle shattered but, it was barely distinguishable from the broken glass already on the floor. 

She stared at the over turned wooden table, internally chastising herself. Her instructor's voice swarming in her head, 'too brash', 'unworthy', 'temperamental'. She laughed out loud, the hollow sound bounced around the room. Varric wasn't even the root cause of her outburst, just the trigger. The Divine, her symbol, her ultimate reason snuffed out. The loss weighed on her 'perfect' outward demeanor, until she finally relented. It accumulated to her lashing out at Varric and getting tipsy off horribly brewed alcohol. She stood, gripping the chair for balance, while reaching for the last unopened bottle perched on the overturned table's leg. The chair, decrepit like the rest of the castle, broke under her grip. Too intoxicated to catch herself she ended up on the floor, staring at the cobweb filled ceiling. She remained motionless. Sounds from the bar weaved in through the holes in the bricks. Most soldiers content to get drunk in companionship, but she wasn't a soldier she was a Seeker. Thus, isolated.

Her stomach gurgled trying to digest the sludge that caused her to become so 'loose'. Brief unfocused thoughts filtered through her brain, most questioning the Maker and the ideals pushed forth by the Chantry. 

The sound of footsteps on the stairs barely phased her. Yet, with the partially functioning part of her brain she prayed to the Maker it wasn't the Inquisitor. While she doubted the Inquisitor would be anything but understanding, the stupor she found herself in was rather nice and she didn't want to lose it. Not yet, perhaps not ever. 

Whomever it was reached the top of the steps. Cassandra tilted her metal gauntlet becoming fascinated with the moonlight’s reflection. The colors were rather appealing. The soft sound of leather boots and the cocking of a crossbow, one specific crossbow, echoed through the room. 

"Fuck me." She whispered to herself and slammed her fist against the floor grunting in pain. A few quick steps and Cassandra’s eyes were now rather close to a bolt from Bianca. 

"Seeker?" Varric furrowed his brow in utter confusion.

"Not now Varric." Seethed Cassandra, rolling on her side reaching for the mead once more. Yet, with the mead still out of her reach she moved closer accidently rolling onto glass shards. Cassandra bit her lip and whimpered slightly. He stood there, having set Bianca on a nearby chair. He knelt grabbing the mead. He glanced at the name and wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"Really Seeker I thought even you knew better. Verminrile, that shit knocks you down." He paused setting it down behind him, farther away from the Seeker. "Seeker?"

Cautiously putting his hand on her non-injured shoulder. She had started to doze and then woke rather startled grabbing for Varric but due to her intoxication if came off more as pawing. 

"I'm fineee." She slurred. 

"Clearly." Varric retorted pushing Cassandra into a seated position. He managed to get her leaning against the flipped table. She tugged at her underarmor the blood already creating a sticky mess. A few black hair strands sprung up in random places. Varric let out an amused chuckle at her disheveled appearance.

"I'm sorry." It was quiet and Varric's ears barely heard it. "I'm sorry." She started to whisper it like a mantra, unable to stop and not wanting to. She couldn't tell anymore who she was apologizing to, Varric, The Divine, even The Maker. She just couldn't stop. Maybe, maybe if she continued until her throat bled someone would accept her apology. Then, maybe she wouldn’t feel so alone.

"That alcohol did a number on you, huh?" His musings interrupted her whispers. She lifted her eyes from the wooden floor boards and stared at him. He crouched there, his shirt exposing his fantastic chest hair, looking rather composed. Their distance unnerved her, within distance to punch or kiss, kill or hug. She fidgeted in response to her internal thoughts. Drunkenness..No shit-faced was a vulnerable state for her.

"I.." She started trailing off finding it difficult to hold her train of thought. "You were rright, you were protecting a friend. I should have been explicit with my intentions for Hawke. To help The Divine, to sa--" she abruptly stopped emotions flaring. She never finished her sentence yet, Varric never pushed.

"Alright, Seeker we need to get you up." Varric stood sending dust flying around him. Cassandra had yet to get up. He snapped his fingers in front of the Seeker's eyes, no response. "What's Verminrile’s saying ‘guaranteed to get you drunk, robbed, and surface side.’ Shit-crazy Orzammar liquor." Still nothing, Varric huffed a little. "Seeker." He tried. "Seeker." Nothing. He knelt back down.

"Cassandra."

He found himself with two slim trembling arms wrapped around him, and a face nuzzled into his neck. He stayed motionless for few moments. Cassandra simply held him tighter. For some reason the hug felt soothing. Varric continued to remain motionless. He waited. Then, when Cassandra began to physically shake, he whispered her name soothingly in her ear and rubbed her back comfortingly.

It took a couple of hours for the alcohol to wear off. With some leaning on Varric they managed to move to an unoccupied common room. He motioned her to sit in the chair glancing at the glass still embedded in her arm.

She waved him off.

"You left Bianca." Her voice still raw from crying. Varric glanced around cursing and then quickly slipped out of the room. She pulled off the more encumber some pieces of her armor, trying to get a look at her wound. Finally opting to rip open the linen undershirt. She felt a few shards, her blood soaked fingers barely managing to get a grip. Pulling, but unable to pull them out due to her fingers slipping on the blood.

Varric appeared behind her.

"Sit still." He commanded. Carefully he removed the shards from her arm and shoulder, wrapping it in some salve coated bandages. His eyes lingered on her shoulder and the expanse of her back that happened to be exposed. Small scars littered her back. None were jagged or jarring, almost pleasant, even unnoticeable if seen from a slight distance. 

"Thanks." Her voice echoed in the mostly bare room. She started to readjust her armor, though her chest piece kept giving her a rather hard time. The buckles she couldn't quite set with one hand. She turned ready to ask Varric for help. He stood with a rather intriguing look on his face. His eyebrows were furrowed in, his body tense but not overly so like in battle. More cautious than anything else. Whatever occupied his thoughts quickly dispersed, his eyes seeking out Cassandra's. 

"Better Seeker?" 

"Manageable." Came the hoarse voice. "If you could--" she stopped loosely gesturing to her armor.

"Because putting pressure on your wound is going to do wonders." He quipped.

"Varric," she growled her voice lower than before, she turned around looking at him fully. He seemed concerned, genuinely concerned. Huffing slightly she continued, "I'd prefer to be dressed when I walk out." 

Varric's expression softened he stepped forward his gloved fingers closing around the buckles. He worked quickly, his fingers brushing along Cassandra's sides. 

"Done." 

Cassandra remained quiet and then slipped out into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events are a foot during Saturnalia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more cheerful this time around. Also while these are one shots, think of them more as snippets in their lives.  
> Also they totally have showers, if there are fountains then there can be showers. Let me know if there any mistakes.
> 
> Happy Holidays.

The wind whipped across the faces of those who dared to venture out. In addition to strong winds nature supplied a torrent of snow, making it impossible to see more than a foot in any direction.

Skyhold looked picturesque outside and inside. The bar full to the brim with rosy cheeks, tinted from alcohol consumption. Half-slurred carols bouncing of the walls along with loud boisterous laughing, mostly supplied by Iron Bull.

Varric spun another tale, watching the crowd's every expression. Their faces shone with anticipation and worry. The main heroine had just been confronted by the villain. Varric took a swig of mead to warm his vocal cords, poised to launch into the next installment. He looked across the bar and watched Master Dennet get up unsteadily. He headed for the door. Varric’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, apparently it had been at the request of the Seeker. She must have felt Varric's gaze for she glanced over before leaving the bar. Her exit creating a groan from the patrons that were blasted with cold air.

Master Dennet and Cassandra, they weren't an item were they? It took a moment for his brain to register Cassandra was wearing riding gear. Andraste's ass. Varric excused himself and grabbed his leather coat, hastily putting it on.

"The story will be finished. Have another beer." He said before taking a final sip and wishing them a happy Saturnalia. Cheers rang in response. He hurried towards the door.

The same patrons that cursed Cassandra cursed him when he let in the bitter cold. He roughly remembered where the stables were, but in this storm he couldn't make anything out. He moved, the snow almost at his knees. By the time he reached the barn he couldn't control the shivers.

He pushed open the wooden door, moving towards the brazier and honestly contemplated jumping onto the coals. The horses stamped and whinnied in their stalls. Their winter coats keeping them warm. Varric glared at them in jealousy.

The voices drifted in and could barely be made about above the howling wind.

"--which would you recommend?"

"Neither you're blasted insane. This weather."

"Master Dennet. I am quite aware of the weather. I asked you a question, now answer it."

Dennet’s response was cut off due to a particularly large gust of wind that rattled the barn. Varric moved to step closer but the doors slid apart. Dennet handed off the bridle, saddle, and a number of pads.

"Check her breathing every half hour. She's built for mountain weather but this is..." He gave vague gestures. Cassandra gave a swift nod before moving over to one of the middle stalls. She unlatched the stall door and gave a slight click. Sharp but even. The chestnut colored horse moved forward just enough for Cassandra to halter and attach the lead rope. She then guided the horse into the main hall. Varric watched while she loosely draped the lead rope over the horse's neck. Prepping the horse with a quick brushing before moving onto the saddle.

"Goin' for a joy ride Seeker?" The horses’ ears twitched in his direction but didn't jerk in surprise like Cassandra. She already started working to secure the saddle.

"Go back to the bar, dwarf." The horse rubbed her nose against the Seeker's front when Cassandra rounded with the bridle. Varric bristled, Saturnalia couldn't even make her civil.

"Finee, _Human._ " He overly stressed the word, "Don’t need to deal with a fuckinn' bitch Sseeker anyway." Cassandra lifted her head, for a brief moment Varric thought he glimpsed hurt but he shook his head. The woman gave him a cold glare. Without another world she mounted the horse in one swift elegant motion. Varric felt a slight rush of heat, but before he could analyze it; the Seeker had nudged the horse with her boot heels setting the mare into motion. Varric squinted watching shadows until nothing remand but snow and wind.

Varric trudged back to the bar where the bar goers quickly greeted him with another round of beers and storytelling demands. He shrugged off his jacket and returned to his tales, not giving the Seeker another thought.

___

When Varric awoke the snow no longer fell but the sky remained clouded. He stretched causing his joints to pop. His head ached and he felt a deep chill in his core. Upon further inspection he realized he stripped to his boxer shorts last night. Blurry images appeared in his memory but nothing indicating the reason for his current state. Carefully he stood, making it towards the shower. The water felt warm against his chest, attacking the lingering coldness.

It took Varric two glances around after getting dressed to realize Bianca was missing. His breath shortened and his mind swam with all the possible places she could be. He ran, checking every nook and crevice, skidding into the bar where he interrogated every hung-over patron. Most answered with grunts or no, his chest constricted until he could barely breathe. With a slight tap of his hand on his leg he worked to calm himself. Hyperventilating wouldn't be helpful.

He walked back out the bar, moving towards the main path looking for anything. On the road not a soul lingered however a fresh set of horse tracks lead to the barn. Varric straightened himself preparing to forcefully demand the Seeker's help.

A crunch of snow behind him caused him to whirl around, instinctively he reached for Bianca. With one hand grasping at air he came to be in front of the Seeker.

She shivered slightly, her eyes had dark circles under them. The sharpness in the irises replaced with an unfocused look. Cassandra also sported a trickle of blood running down her forehead and a very dark bruise on her neck.

Without so much an explanation the Seeker shoved Bianca into Varric's gloved hands and turned moving away. The snow crunching under her boots.

Varric stood in shock, his limbs refusing to respond. His heart soared in being reconnected with Bianca. He grasped Bianca and turned the crossbow over in his hands. Running his hands along the smoo--. His fingers caught on a gash in the stock. Rage incited within him.

No longer immobilized he lurched forward forcefully grabbing Cassandra's wrist. Without so much a breathe he launched into his tirade.

"Bianca, Seeker? Is there nothing you leave unscathed? The gray warden, Hawke, _the Divine_ , now Bianca." He clashed his teeth. Bianca shifted uncomfortably on his back. "I thought you had ideals, the Maker and al' that shit." Varric's voice trailed into a low deep growl. By now a few citizens had meandered out into the street. They watched the scene with peeked interest. Cassandra forcefully removed her wrist from his grasp.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, Leliana stood off to the side in the shadows. Varric ignored her presence, Bianca happened to be his everything, how dare the Seeker.

"Nothing Seeker, no makeresque remark. No justification for your actions." He snarled his voice rising, he squinted the light now shinning in his eyes. He stepped closer to Cassandra inhaling; she smelled distinctly of battle, sweat and blood.

"What would you have me say dwarf? Would you be so brash if you knew the truth?" She chuckled dimly and winced, "But then you're a storyteller, you care not for the truth but the best tale." She paused, her breathing labored but she did not falter. "Maybe instead of drinking like a pig, you should pay head to your surroundings."

The words startled him, the insults not so much but the scenario she depicted. Guilt swelled momentarily… if she saved Bianca. Fuck.

"You--" he swallowed the rest of his words. He caught the Seeker's eyes and he knew.

"Don't feel guilt Varric. After all I'm just a bitch." She seethed in a whisper. "Happy Saturnalia."

Cassandra escaped into the keep, Leliana trailing after her. The rest of the group gossiped a bit more before dispersing. He quickly relocated to his quarters.

The door shut will a loud creak. Varric laid Bianca on the table, and sat down. He began bouncing his head against the back of the chair. His brain filled with one word only.

Shit.

\----

Cassandra hadn't been seen in three days. Her absence sent the rumor mill a buzz, even the Inquisitor found out. Which caused Varric to receive a few stern words and a rather forceful request to patch things up with the Seeker. Then, before Varric could respond, the Inquisitor left taking Blackwall, Vivienne, and Iron Bull to some marshes.

Varric's body shook with dread when he looked up at the castle keep. Taking a shaky breathe of clean crisp air he began his ascent. He swept past the nobles, past the stairs, and past the whispers into Josephine's office. To his dismay Ruffles' office was also occupied with Leliana.

Both quieted for a moment, simply watching Varric teeter about. Josephine shut a book rather loudly, the sound caused Varric to jump. They laughed for a few moments.

Leliana peered out from underneath her hood.

"She's in the infirmary." Varric nodded his thanks, relieved she didn't make him speak. "Varric," her voice taking a darker tone “Next time I'd hold my tongue. Because Cassandra won't temper herself." Josephine nodded in agreement taping her quill on the lid of the inkwell.

He ducked through some of the quieter paths, content to avoid prying eyes. With ease he slipped through the back door of the infirmary. The infirmary smelled faintly of antiseptic and oranges. A few patients hobbled around, he caught the arm of nearby doctor that pointed him to the next wing.

His mental pep talk did little to calm his nerves. Stepping into the room he saw Cassandra propped up in her bed reading, dressed in a pair of loose fitting black silk pants and a tan linen shirt. A sling engulfed her right arm, slight bruising lingered on her face and her left ankle looked wrapped. Next to the bed sat a dark wooden night stand, the _Swords & Shields_ books stacked together along with a few other names he recognized. He waited till she turned the page to clear his throat.

She looked up and her face flushed, however she didn't say anything. Simply content to stare at him. Tentatively he took a few steps closer, his shoes scuffing along the floor.

"Seeker," he started "thank you for retrieving Bianca. I'm not sure how to express my gratitude." A rather diplomatic response if there ever was one.

The Seeker closed her book and laid it on the bed. Her fingers gently rubbing along the spine.

"Your words earlier sufficed." Varric looked down at his boots.

"How did you know Bianca had been stolen?" He diverted not willing to confront his harsh accusations. For years he hadn't lost sight of Bianca, and then yesterday… it unnerved him.

The Seeker sighed and readjusted her sling.

"Bianca was with you during the start of your story about the fisherman. However, when I returned from a briefing she was gone and you, hammered." She shuffled back against her tan pillows and crossed her legs, carefully watching her ankle. "I inquired around to see if you had left at any point, but apparently you had been regaling the bar with stories since I left."

"In the stable you were quieter than a tranquil mage." He replied.

"You still hadn't realized Bianca had disappeared and you could barely stand. I-"

"I could--" he interrupted, thinking back.

"You may have believed so. However you happened to be far from sober. The storm was difficult enough. I didn't need a drunk dwarf tagging along." She interjected, in truth he barely remembered the night. Lots of laughing and mead and the fight. He ran a hand over his face and then slightly brushed Bianca, his gloved fingers catching on the notch in the wooden stock. A sigh escaped from his lips.

"Ask."

"Ask wha-" she rolled her eyes causing him to pause. "How did Bianca's stock get damaged?"

She leaned back and licked her lips.

"By the time I caught up to the thief. I," her voice wavered slightly "honestly I could barely feel anything. When the sword came down I barely blocked." She lifted her sling, giving indication of the damage. "I managed to stagger him long enough to grab Bianca. However, he disarmed me and managed to gain the upper hand. My demise seemed likely. I tried to use Bianca but the trigger froze so I used her to block the sword. Maker willing I managed to reacquire my sword and end him."

She finished and started playing with loose strings on the blanket.

"I see."

"I truly did not mean to cause damage."

Varric chuckled and gave her a genuine smirk.

"Bianca saved your life, you owe her one now."

The Seeker rolled her eyes and grunted. Varric felt rather elated that Bianca saved the Seeker's life, even when he couldn't be there, Bianca had been. In addition, Bianca's safe return topped his best Saturnalia gifts received list.

"Bianca's trigger wasn't frozen, the crossbow implements a safety system."

" _Yes, something I'd clearly be acquainted with._ " Sarcasm dripped from her words. Varric stepped to the edge of the bed.

"How bad is the shoulder?" He gestured to the sling. The Seeker shrugged.

"Bruised, a mage repaired most of the damage."

"And you can walk?"

"Varric." Growled the Seeker, her voice bordering on frustration.

"Can you walk, Seeker?"

She pulled herself out of bed and stood before him, flickers of irritation crossed her face.

He nodded.

"Get dressed and met me outside." He moved towards the door. "No armor." He appended to his statement before exiting her room.

A few minutes later a dressed Seeker emerged armorless and with partially ruffled hair.

He smirked. He boldly laced his fingers through Cassandra's left hand, pulling her out of the building. She hadn't protested though, she did freeze slightly when he first initially grasped her hand. They walked through a half a dozen side paths before finally reaching a tucked away part of Skyhold. A grassy field with a few worn targets placed in various locations. She raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Bianca can take a few hits but next time I'd rather she be used properly."

Varric tapped slightly on the sling indicating to Cassandra to take it off. She slowly complied, still cautious. He instructed her to stand where he stood. The grass around the spot worn to dirt and rock. Quickly he launched into a rather detailed explanation of Bianca's interior mechanics. Cassandra remained silent the entire time. Finally he gently presented Bianca to her.

Her brows narrowed in confusion, hands staying firmly at her sides.

"Varric."

"You're left handed, correct?" Without waiting for a reply he nudged her left hand placing Bianca into it, forcing her to grasp on. He moved slightly behind her. "Slight height difference, but same principle." She stood there following his directions to the best of her ability. Varric made adjustments when needed.

For the rest of the afternoon Varric taught Cassandra how to shoot. By the time the sun set Cassandra's archery skills rose to adequate. Varric even heard Cassandra give a genuine chuckle. He returned her to the infirmary, the orange smell now stronger; He really needed to talk to Cole about it.

He stood by the door shifting his weight, unsure of how to proceed.

"Thanks."

He smiled at her.

"Merry Saturnalia, Cassandra."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuckles, Iron Lady, those were nicknames, what the hell was Seeker?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did some rather large edits since first uploaded. Tiredness and irritation leads to crappy grammar checking.

The championing party returned splattered in dried blood and guts. With a few discrete words from the Inquisitor the party disbanded to freshen up. Apparently their trip to The Hinterlands succeed in the disposal of a few smaller dragons. Yet, Cassandra deemed the adventure rather pointless, the Inquisitor still held off on the removal of the high dragon. But she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to be subject to a long-winded explanation of group dynamics and practice. To Cassandra's confusion, the Inquisitor almost never brought her along when they went on dragon disposal expeditions. Though Cassandra never complained for Pentaghast dragon hunting lived and died with Anthony.

Dorian casually strolled by, he had changed into his white robes. He popped the white collar smoothing out any unevenness. The man then ran a hand through his wet hair attempting to pull his brown locks into place.

"Care to join us for a drink?" He offered, his fingers still working his hair. She shook her head respectfully declining, she had training exercises to perform. "Do you ever stop training, you train even when you're on leave."  
  
"I am sworn to perform my duties to the be--"  
  
"Yes, yes Seeker stuff, _boring_." Dorian's voice laced with humor, he started counting off on his fingers, “more boring, more boring. Oh what am I forgetting,” he tapped his chin in a fake thought “Oh yes, more boring. Get a drink, relax.”

"Don't you know Sparkler? Seekers aren't allowed to partake in fun. It conflicts with their code." That voice caused Cassandra to tighten her grip on the pommel of her sword.  
  
The men let out a torrent of chuckles while Cassandra stood by rather infuriated. How many times had her training prevented Varric’s chest hair from being singed or Dorian’s head from leaving his shoulders.

"I shall remind you of this, the next time you are being chased by a pack of Hurlocs." She retorted, unsheathing her sword and then swinging it at the nearest dummy. After a few good solid attacks the boys left heading in the direction of the bar.

For the next hour Cassandra released her frustration on multiple targets. When it finally came to the end of her rather rigorous fighting session, her muscles ached and burned. A half-a-dozen targets lay broken on the ground. In addition, her hand protested any time she moved her fingers, they had been rubbed raw by the uneven leather. The bodily aches reminded her of seeker training, rigorous physically and mentally. It gave her little time to think of other things, including dwarves. Her under armor gripped her body drenched in sweat, she did a set of a stretches to prevent her muscles from tightening. When they were finally complete she departed for the showers. Within twenty minutes she showered, found Anthony's book, and made it to the second floor of the bar unnoticed.  
  
Cassandra occupied a rather dark, but open corner giving her a perfect view of the bar. From her position she watched bar patrons leave, enter, drink, and even cheat at Wicked’s Grace. How the men at that table could not tell that the dealer pulled cards from his sleeve she'd never know. However her field of vision returned consistently to one dwarf. He leaned up against the bar having a relaxed conversation with the other members of the Inquisition.  
  
Most of them close friends of the Inquisitor. Ruffles, Chuckles, Sparkler, she struggled to recall the rest of the nicknames he so readily handed out. A roar of laughter echoed up from below, Iron Bull and Krem now leaned on each other for support, apparently they couldn't stop laughing. A few moments later Iron Bull finally lost his balance and ended up breaking a stool on his way down. The wood let out a loud crack and then shattered, brown splinters flying everywhere. With no one claiming injuring everyone, once again, fell into laughter. Most patrons gasping for breath. Even Cullen managed a few chuckles before being called away by a guard. Cassandra remembered, Cullen was ‘curly’.  
  
A few moments later the rest of the entourage slipped out much to the relief of the bartender, whom sent a hired girl to clean up the mess. The girl looked familiar. She squinted recognizing the short brown curls and sharp jawline, this human girl followed Harding around. The girl called it 'Preemptive Scout Training'. Cassandra fondly recalled the shock on Leliana’s face when the girl snuck up into the tower, the encounter ended up being humorous but also terrifying. In the end, it landed Harding with a small but intelligent shadow. A good war asset. She shook her head since when did children become ‘good war assets’.

Cassandra returned from her saddening realization to stir her tea. Her eyes refocusing on the words in front of her. The book's pages were no longer crisp, even in some places blood stained the pages. _Dragon Counters_ , a book purely dedicated to dragon hunting techniques. She barely made it two sentences in before a specific dwarf sat across from her. His elfroot scented aftershave gave him away every time. She closed the book and slid it off the table resting it carefully between her thighs. The book not smutty or romantic in any nature yet his witty comments on her literary choices left her skittish. If he noticed he decided not to comment.  
  
"Seeker." He acknowledged her, taking a sip of his drink.  
  
"Why don't I have a nickname?" The question surprised her, it hadn't even been in the forefront of her mind. Dragons, combat, training, all of those lingered in her frontal lobe, not nicknames. Internally she chastised herself, this was not the time for mundane questions. He laughed lightly warming his hands on the mug of cider.  
  
"I'm not laughing at you, Seeker. Another friend of mine inquired about the exact same thing, a lifetime ago." His volume trailed off to a whisper by the end. Clearly uncomfortable memories had surfaced for Varric. A look of longing briefly settled on his features. Cassandra felt a trace of guilt knowing she was the cause, but her mission required him to lose everything. Simply a harsh truth they both had to swallow. Internally she admired his loyalty to Kirkwall, it rivaled her loyalty to Justinia. Slowly she sipped her tea, the sweet cinnamon scent swirling around her.  
  
"The question need not be answered." She assuaged with a slight wave of her hand, rather content to keep Varric in good-spirits. He shrugged.  
  
"Seeker."  
  
"Hmm?" Cassandra quirked an eyebrow at him. He shook his head.  
  
"Seeker is your nickname."  
  
"But it is my title." She replied, "Ruffles, Iron Lady, Sparkler those are nicknames. They describe personalities or attributes. Mine is.." She fumbled for the words, biting her lip slightly.  
  
"Less extravagant? Dull? Mundane? Perhaps eve--" Cassandra rolled her eyes deciding to tune him out instead of interrupting him. Her eyes wandered about the bar, she caught Cole sneaking oranges onto the window sill again. He looked up at her and smiled, his large hat covering his messy hair. Cole, she never really understood, a spirit with the wish to be human. Despite her reservations initially she had developed a bit of a soft spot for him, especially after he fought a rat for the locket. Perhaps he also felt this change within her for Cole rarely hid from her anymore. Varric at some point in his verbous rant noticed Cassandra's diverted gaze, he softly counted under his breath, Cassandra faintly heard one hundred before she turned back to him.   
  
"For someone that interrogated me for weeks,”  
  
"Days." She corrected.  
  
"Weeks without end," he forged on ignoring her comment "I thought you'd care about my insights. I mean for all you know, I found the Gray Warden."  
  
"Did you?" The inquiry serious in nature.  
  
"What!" His exclamation drawing brief attention from nearby customers "Why Seeker, I'm flattered to think you praise my skills so highly."  
  
"No" she stated "but you have lied before Varric. I would not put it past you to withhold information." They lulled into a strained silence. Cassandra shifted the book so it now rested fully on the chair underneath her left thigh. This silence seemed to become the norm in their conversations not because they tried to bring up past transgressions, but they just naturally worked their way into the conversation. Cassandra believed it to be correlated to the frequency in which they now talked. She inwardly sighed, another fight would eventually ensue. Finally Varric spoke.

"Does it truly bother you?" The sincerity in his voice startled Cassandra.  
  
"Does what bother me? Your inability to supply information. Yes, very much so."  
  
Varric shook his head, moving his fingers across the rim of the mug.  
  
"No, the lack of a 'proper' nickname." He clarified.  
  
She nearly choked on the liquid sliding down her throat. She swallowed rather loudly, struggling to maintain control over the blush threatening to engulf her. They had returned to her inadvertent question. One she would have preferred to leave unanswered. Thankfully, Cole caused a bit of commotion down below distracting Varric momentarily; Cassandra knew she'd owe the boy for that.  
  
"No." She deadpanned. A half-truth, the lack of a nickname didn't bother her, but the underlying reason why Varric didn't give her a creative nickname did. He seemed to brush it off, but unfortunately it made her feel partially excluded. The assumption she'd be getting a nickname came from the fact that Varric doled them out to people who were in good graces with the dwarf. She assumed they had reached a pleasant equilibrium apparently she had been wrong. 

"Mhm. Let's see torturer, kidnapper, slaver?" He teased, his tone playful. For a few moments it bordered flirting. Cassandra briefly wondered if he realized how his tone could interpreted by people passing by. She laughed at the thought of course he did, he manipulated her all the time.  
  
This could become problematic, Seekers needed to be above petty relations and rumors. Yet, Cassandra wanted to improve their rocky friendship. The dilemma she faced felt familiar, _Swords and Shields_ perhaps, or one of the other smutty romances she had read. Ultimately it was duel between the duty of a soldier and the wants of the person. She tore away from the thoughts, smutty drama did not occur to her, in literature fine, but not in the actual world. She needed to escape whatever this was. With a polite throat clear and a simple white lie of needing to be in a meeting, the Seeker began to leave. Varric touched her shoulder causing Cassandra to turn around. He promptly handed _Dragon Counters_ , without a single comment. He called out to her while she descended the stairs.

“I’ll work on it Seeker.”  
  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These will eventually get longer. I know I have a few in the works hovering around 3k words.


End file.
